Waking Up
by Mrs. Abject
Summary: Even with James around to protect her, there are some things Maria doesn't understand about the situation, or want to. Oneshot, onesided Maria/James.


**Waking Up**

Rating: T  
Warnings: Violence, slight Maria/James on Maria's side, spoilers.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill.  
A/N: I've always wondered how much Maria knew about her situation, since Born From A Wish seems to imply she knows something's not right, and what went through her mind when her personality shifted. This is the first time I've tried writing anything for Silent Hill. Hope it turned out okay.

* * *

They were running down the hallway, James half-dragging Maria along—and once again, she was tripping all over herself in those stupid boots. God knows why she had picked out those particular boots this morning, they'd been tripping her up all day… if it _had_ been this morning, since she couldn't really remember picking out the boots and putting them on… and she couldn't quite remember picking out her clothes this morning, either (and where exactly did this come from, she wondered? She couldn't quite place it, so she gave up, concentrated on something else. James. From time to time, she caught him staring at her, and she didn't really understand this either but it was _important_ for him to be looking at her, after all, she was his… something or other, she knew that for sure.)

At any rate, the boots weren't fun or flirty or sexy, the boots were slowing her down and the boots were about to get her _killed_, what with that… thing… chasing them, scraping up the floor louder and louder. She didn't want to stop and look behind her, but she could tell it was gaining on them—and they didn't have anywhere to go, just forward until it caught up with them and killed them. Stupid her and her stupid boots were about to get them both killed.

James was pulling her, but still, he had her by the hand, and if the situation wasn't so twisted, that would have made her incredibly happy. It wasn't like it meant anything, but his palm was pressing against hers and he wanted to save her (_HER_, not Mary), and it felt like she was wanted. It would all be okay, he'd saved her before. Even with that fixation on his dead wife, he'd protected Maria, and he would do it again. Maybe there was something bigger and badder after them this time, but she trusted James. She had to trust him. What else could she do? It felt like she was… doing what she was meant to do, being with him and being protected by him and giving him a real, live girl to have by his side. Not to say that the momentary prospect of death wasn't absolutely terrifying, but he could save her, and then he could want her, and then he could take her out of this town and away (which is what would happen. James had never failed to protect her before.) She didn't want to stay here. She'd be alone, and she wasn't made for being alone.

_What she was meant to do… she wasn't made for being alone…_ it was almost as if, were she to just concentrate hard enough, those things would mean something completely different, but she wasn't _supposed_ to pick away the inconsistencies. It wasn't time to pick away the inconsistencies. There was a door or something at the end of the hall, and if they could get to it in time, and if it wasn't locked or blocked, _and_ if something worse wasn't waiting on the other side, then _maybe_ they'd live. But James was getting tired and Maria was getting tired and that… that red thing, it was gaining, and if they had to die, it would be better to just ignore the inconsistencies for a little while longer. Could she do that? Could she just let it go, if it meant she'd still be able to believe in… what? She didn't exactly know what there was that needed believing in. No, they wouldn't die, they could just run a little faster, push themselves a little harder and then they'd be fine, just _fine_, they could have a happy ending instead of a tragedy, nobody would suffer, nobody would die… It couldn't have been only her that wanted a happy ending. He must have been lonely, too, otherwise he wouldn't have taken her with him… (just _forget_ that you look like her, that the only reason he likes you is that you're stuck with that stupid little homebody's face, that bitch who screamed at him when he brought her flowers and didn't even _care_ about what he needed, no, he needs you, he needs _you_.)

They were slowing down. They weren't going to make it, made of flesh and blood and bones and muscles that tired out as they ran, and that thing behind them was something different, beyond all of this. Or maybe it was just a flight of fancy, and they'd get to that door… no, Maria could see it was an elevator now. Somehow, some way, if she thought about it hard enough it would be entirely James' fault. But James was better than being alone in Heaven's Night, where it was safe. (Or maybe it wasn't safe. She didn't know what she would do if there wasn't anyone with her, if she was left all alone with nobody. No, she definitely wasn't made for being alone. She didn't want to have to think about what that man had told her before, the one at the mansion who wasn't really there at all… what was his name? And what _had_ he told her? The memory was getting blurry, and if she just didn't think about it, it would fade even more, along with that vague sense that she was keeping a secret from herself, and she couldn't even let the horrible things around her distract her properly.) She dropped the thought. James wouldn't want a woman with those kinds of thoughts.

The red thing was making those ghastly scraping noises and it was getting louder and louder and louder, and they were almost to the end of the hallway, with the elevator… and she was out of breath, gasping, unable to run anymore, and they were going to die, they couldn't make it, _they were going to die and she'd never leave, he'd never love her_. This couldn't be happening, this had to be a bad dream… but she knew it wasn't a dream, she could hear the scraping and footsteps, feel the air against her back where it (he?) was approaching her, and oh god, really, this was it. They were going to die, and James let go of her hand to try and suddenly she looked up and he was in the elevator, he was safe, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief (she had a shot, she'd survive this after all) when the door started to close.

_They_ weren't going to die. _She_ was going to die.

He was pounding something in the elevator, probably the button that opened the doors, and for a second or maybe a little bit longer she let herself hope it would work, let herself be genuinely frightened in that way grounded in thinking there was a chance things would work out. He was going to save her. It was a closer call than before, but otherwise, it would be like all of those other times when it worked out okay.

Then she felt it, starting like a bad cough but deeper, worse, and she thought it was just her lungs, but just worse now, the worst they'd ever been. It was that sort of pain. She didn't realize she'd been stabbed until she saw the look on James' face, and then the pain wasn't so bad anymore, it was already sort of fuzzy in that same way everything else was becoming, and she wondered why she thought it was _James_ that killed her because it was that thing, it really wasn't James at all…

* * *

When Maria woke up, she was relieved to find herself somewhere else entirely. She supposed it looked like a prison, but then again, the hospital hadn't looked like a prison, and look how it had been there. The kind of place that pulled you in and never let you leave, she thought, and it wasn't just Brookhaven, either.

Her chest didn't hurt anymore, not more than it did before… before what? Her pills weren't there (how could they be? Hadn't she left them somewhere else?) but she didn't need them at the moment. And really, the cough wasn't too bad, now. She was feeling better already, like she'd never even… it didn't matter. She was here now.

Was this the historical society? It reminded her of some of the old photographs she'd seen when James had taken her there—she had to practically beg him to take her, since she'd always cared more about sightseeing than he had. He'd have been happy to stay in the hotel all day, and really, she couldn't say she would have minded. But it was such a beautiful town, so nice and peaceful, and she really did want to see some of it before they left, even though she'd felt a little sick and wasn't at her best, and she'd been feeling that sort of drag in her chest for long enough that the little nagging voice in the back of her head was telling her that maybe she should get that checked out…

The town had been just _beautiful_. James had gotten some of the things they'd seen on tape. She would have to ask him about that. The town was… different, somehow, now, and she wanted to see it the way it was before. She knew if she went out there, it wouldn't be so beautiful and mysterious, it would be horrifying and abandoned and _sick…_ but it had been beautiful. James would come for her and she would see it again.

And, _oh_, she definitely wanted to see James again, too.

It didn't matter that the bars were there, she wouldn't have left anyway. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. Maria waited.


End file.
